


Centuries

by GCSiren (GoddessOfShitpost)



Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom, Marvel Entertainment, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: And also a badass, F/M, Just read it man, Old Man Logan - Freeform, Sad, Stripper!Reader, and also a stripper, equal parts sweet and, you're a mutant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 03:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15427659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfShitpost/pseuds/GCSiren
Summary: You lived a long life, one you considered justifiably adventurous. Still, half a century later, you can't forget the man that had possibly been your most breathtaking venture.





	1. Lil' Red Riding Hood

**Author's Note:**

> Listen: https://open.spotify.com/track/0BWfuW4Ee7GknkkzpVDQih

_Bachelor parties are fucking shitty._

Logan thought so, at least. It was all a show of how each man would make it manlier than each proposition before. Now, Logan’s masculinity was sacred to him– but it really didn’t come to him that screaming at strippers would enhance it. Maybe it was the century old practice of him being able to fuck whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted, but it just wasn’t his thing.

That, and also perhaps because it was Scott’s party before he gets married to Jean. Y’know, just a thought.

He was contemplating on leaving when the song ended and the lights dimmed into a aquamarine blue from the cherry red that preceded it.

_You had plenty money 1922…_

He knew what he said, but if you weren’t the most hypnotizing woman he’d ever seen, he’d be damn blind. Every other pairs of eyes seemed to agree with this sentiment, as no man, woman and everything in between had their gazes stuck on you. Some necks craned in strange angles just to get a better view.

You were youthful. Your skin was taut, and no trace of weariness were to be found in your irises. However, your body betrayed you. It was obviously that of a grown woman, and your face didn’t look like it would be illegal to glance at you.

Logan really, really wished he would blink and you’d disappear. He hoped you were merely a delusion that replaced the boring ass dancer from before you so he wouldn’t be forced to eat his words right now.

 

You finished with a turn to the group– his group– seated in the front. It was as if everyone was put out of a trance and the roar of horny 40-somethings overpowered everyone’s already loud enough hollering. Bills covered the floor around you. Tens and twenties were slipped into every string in your flimsy outfit. The enthusiastic reaction brought the once incredibly uninterested Logan out of his own stupor. He stood up without a word to the group. They all probably expected it from him anyway, and walked outside to smoke.

He’d never admit it, but he your scent had overpowered his senses.

Later on, he was outside, just finishing his cigar when that same smell returned. Fucking amazing. He tried to ignore it, but then he heard a man. The sound came from behind a corner, the back exit of the club. Again, another voice– yours, uncomfortable but still sternly trying to shrug the creep off. Logan watches from the side, only opting to move if it escalates. It did, but before he could retract his claws, you had already kneed the poor idiot in the crotch.

He kept standing, but had a hand on the afflicted area and a mouth that called you a bitch. Logan would’ve applauded the man’s tenacity if it weren’t for the heavy hand that was targeted towards your face. The claws came out immediately and he started speeding towards you two but was stopped by the sound of a gunshot.

A .44 caliber Magnum was in your hand and the biker’s foot was bleeding. He was curled up on the ground, with a fury to his eyes that would’ve sent somebody running. You breathed heavily, a bit shaken. “Get up and that man fucks you up just a tad bit more than I will.” You gestured to Logan without looking at him. It was no surprise to him that you had noticed his presence. Discretion was not needed in dealing with scumbags. You, obviously, knew that just as well as him. The wimp turned a bit to see just what kind of weapon this person must be wielding to be scarier than you at that moment.

Okay, yeah, nope, that’s the fucking Wolverine.

He shook his head quickly. You finally put the gun back into your large purse, and stepped over the body. Logan still had his almost nonplussed stare following you. “Yes, I suppose I would like a drink, Mr. Wolverine.” Your voice was steady, smooth. Logan really was impressed now.

He took you to a proper dive bar. It was quiet for the first two minutes as he wondered why he did oblige you.

You could practically hear him pondering his decisions.

Before you could speak though, he felt the need to do it first. “You made a dumbass out of a man twice your size.” He remarked, finally revealing his eyes to you that was previously so damn focused on a glass of bourbon. You smiled. He was handsome, in a rugged way. Not the creepy bald biker kind of rugged way, though. “It’s Nevada. I’ve dealt with guys as big as Dwayne Johnson.” He and you shared a chuckle at that. As a man of his stature, Logan could understand how that would seem. It was overtaken by a short silence once again, but it was gentle this time. Comfortable. “You work full time at that place?” He asked. You hummed in confirmation. His expression turned just a sliver more sour, but it was still lighthearted. To you, it was fucking catastrophic. “What’s wrong?” You pointed it out. “Just didn’t take you for the type.” His reply sounded more like a reassurance.

Oh no, baby, what are you doing?

“What type? Respected?” You cocked an eyebrow, hoping to god he’d be careful with his answer. Still, you laughed airily. “I guess.” Cautious, but insufficient.

A tension he couldn’t sense fell upon you two. A beat.

“Tell me something. Do you think what you do is respectable? What you did?” The tone remained casual, but firm. Your eyes were busy looking at the drink you swirled with a move of your wrist. He grit his teeth just ever so slightly at how you worded your very prying questions. Like you knew him already. “No,” He couldn’t help but flick his gaze down to how you licked your lips after finishing your glass. Still, he wanted to get a message out. “But don’t fucking talk like you know shit about me, alright ‘Cinnamon’?” He used your stage name with a bite. It irked you, but you were already ticked off enough. “So don’t talk shit like you know about respectable and me, alright Wolverine?” You spit back, your body naturally coming closer to properly glare at him.

A different kind of tension settled in as you both notice just how close you two had gotten. Your scent once again filled his nose and made his head swim just a little bit. You sat back in your chair, spine straightening too primly for your own liking. “You want another one of those?” He cleared his throat before speaking, then gestured to your empty glass. “You paying?” With a smirk, the innocent playfulness of the ambiance returned. He returned the smugness of your face with his own signature twist of still looking mildly disgruntled no matter what. He was calling the bartender to fill it when you handed him a fifty dollar bill. “No, sweetheart, s’alright I’m paying.” He pats your hand back down. The nickname was charming to you. “Okay, but that’s your friends’ money, hun.” You returned a just as affectionate nickname.

Of course, it was meant to push and prod at his patience. Instead, he just notices how neither of you have told the other your name.

“Name’s Logan.” He finally says. You replied with your own name.

Well, this is going to be a long night, isn’t it?


	2. The Man Comes Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There's a man goin' 'round takin' names  
>  And he decides who to free and who to blame  
> Everybody won't be treated all the same  
> There'll be a golden ladder reachin' down_

_When the man comes around._

Logan met you almost 50 years ago. You were a stripper in a high-end club in Las Vegas and he was begrudgingly going to Scott Summers’ bachelor party. It’s hazy, how exactly it happened. He wonders if it was his illness that came with old age or the mere span of time that had passed between that day and the present. One thing he clearly remembers was how mesmerizing you could be in and out of stage. Performing, you could’ve been compared to a snake charmer but in the privacy of wherever you and him chose-- you were something to be praised. Logan was not much of a voyeur but he somehow remembers just how much he speculated that if he were to even see you and him having sex from a third person’s view, he would get off without even having to do much. Nights spent looking for each other to find release turned into months of being together. Months turned into years and neither of you said a word about it until 4 years later when he and you separated. He said “I love you” like he was about to die. In a way, it made you relieved he said the words so late into your relationship. You told him the same. Neither of you ever thought you’d ever feel it. Even in nature, he was a healing man and you were a healer. It seemed your abilities were useless for the other person. Yet there you were, telling each other something that you knew the other could never fully show. No gesture would measure just how much, just how pure that emotion was.

He never returned. You tried to not think about it. It wasn’t hard to forget.

The future was a dystopia for mutants. No adult mutants were around anymore, not to your knowledge at least. You were leading the future generation into safety. 

After it, you were going to find his grave, his body, anything. You deserved at least that. He haunted you in your dreams, still, and you wished it would end after your final visit.

He was sick now, though. Your memory stayed with him, just as did the memory of Jean or Mariko. Sadly, they were all fading. You, being the most recent one had the luck to be the last one to be forgotten. He forces himself to forget, but much like your situation, you lingered in his mind at night.

When you said you wanted to find his body, you never thought this.

You were trapped under a van that stupid fucking clone threw at you (and thank god just about missed) and...and he was there. 

He was dying in front of you. Laura was crying next to him, the other kids— you couldn’t see. You were screaming, bawling, clawing at the dirt uselessly just trying to get near him.

The children heard you, and soon enough, the weight of the vehicle came off of you. You didn’t bother nodding a thanks or pausing or anything because you didn’t want this, you didn’t..he couldn’t. Your weary, formerly crushed legs that held your weight threatened to crumple under you, but you held on to whatever stability and rationality you had left. Each step tore right through you, but you could hardly give a shit.

His eyes were fluttering and you were next to him.

You held your bloodied hands above his chest, and prayed you weren’t too late. Laura gapes at you, but had a glint of hope in her eyes. She didn’t know you, but the way his skin glowed under your touch was surely not a bad thing. You smiled at her, reassuringly. “He’s going to hate me for this.”

He opened his eyes, but instead of bliss, there was fear. Quickly snapping his head towards you, he practically yells-- “What the hell did you do?!” And the kids laugh behind you. You, however, were honestly in quite a predicament. “I healed you,” You knew that look. It was one that told you he wanted this. “..10 years.” You finally say, and he looks up from burying his face into his palms. It urged you to continue. “Your body, with everything considered, you only have 10 years to live.” It hurt having to give him a sentence, but you knew any longer he would only suffer through it. Laura needed him happy and healthy and alright. She looked and shared your sentiment scarily, as her eyes were not of pure misery like they were before but confusion and...brokenness. She’s wondering why Logan wouldn’t want to stay with her. He notices it a bit slowly but tells her to keep going with the children. Laura was hesitant but when he and you stood up to follow them just a bit behind, she obliged.

“Who are you to make that decision for me, huh?” His tone was even, but it was far from calm. He look a lot younger, which shamefully reminded you of the roughness of that expression he used quite differently before. “Laura needs you.” You answer simply. It was the truth. “Really? Really.” He deadpans before saying your name. “You sure you don’t need me? Is that really why?” At this, you grew stiff but didn’t give in but stopping in your tracks. You turned to him though, anger clear in every part of your face. “I gave you ten years. Ten years of being fucking normal. Your powers are gone, you can be the man you’ve always wanted to be. With a fucking purpose, too!” Turns out you couldn’t be that stable when your legs weren’t healing still. You yelled and you fell and he tried to give you a hand and you told him fuck off because that’s what you did. Both of you almost died, but that’s what you did. He caught a peek of your ripped jeans (unintentionally ripped) and your bruised skin. “Wait...What the fuck?” He knelt down to examine the damages further. Without powers, he still managed to rip the fabric of your probably poorly made denim jeans. He tried to touch, but you slapped his hand away. Your own brushed the skin, and you immediately winced. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck, what did you do?”

You laugh, though you probably shouldn’t. Your blood was really having a tough time right now. “You’re mad when I heal you and still mad when I’m hurt. Get yourself together, Logan.” Your tone was light, but with real sincerity. 

“Tell me.”

He tried to sound firm, but it just sounded so gentle it convinces you more than any toughness that could try.

“Fucking use your head. 10 years are added to your lifespan and I also had to take your powers away. Y’think my body finds it easy to heal itself now?”

Suddenly, and finally, Logan feels guilt.

“Uh, hey guys?”

The both of you turn to the voice-- Rictor’s, and barely processed the words that asked if you two were okay. You nodded, because Logan was fussing over you. The teenager reassured you that it isn’t far. 

“You shouldn’t have done it.” He whispered it to himself more than anything. 

You were really pissed now. If he could’ve just kept yelling at you, it’d be fine.

“No,” He looks up at you as you kept talking. “You don’t get to fucking do this. I did this for you. I can still heal. I have a life, goddamnit! I care for you, so I brought you back. You..It’s...” 

He kissed you before you could ramble on and you were grateful. “I love you.”

For once, you said it first. For once, maybe you did show him just how much.

The children were properly distracted now. They still walked, a little paranoid, but took conspicuous glances behind them and shared hushed gossip. “Answer her, man!” Logan heard the joking tease from the small girl he recalls to be named Delilah. 

Instead, he kissed you again, not liking the pause of his own reply after your confession. “There,” You were breathless. “I love you too.”


End file.
